Shoulder to Shoulder
by DustInTheLight
Summary: When times get rough, the NCIS team stick together. But what happens when one of them disappears and the rest of the team is thrown into chaos? Read from Nell's POV as the team go through love, loss and struggles in Shoulder to Shouler. M rated for violence, aggression and vulgar language. Romance story between Neric, along with action alongside.
1. Prologue - Light in the Distance

**Prologue**

* * *

 ** _Nell's POV_**

* * *

It's cold. That's all I can think about as I lie bleeding out on the stone floor, my hand clutching at my chest next to the three dark bullet wounds.

It's so cold. Unnaturally cold. It's not the cold I was used to feeling while growing up back east, no. Back there it was almost pleasant; the nipping on your fingers and your ears resembled the teeth of fairies, appearing to light up your life and spark magic back into the world. This cold, however, is dark and seemingly cruel. Its core lies at the wounds of the bullets themselves and almost seeps through my veins like a poison. It's almost scary, and yet I've never felt so calm. My vision already flickers, going dark at the edges as I stare at the ceiling of the dark room. I smile weakly, telling myself that it's going to be all right; Eric will be all right. I may not have made it through to the end of the case, but my Beale, my dork, my love, will no longer be in danger.

My phone is out of my reach. Somehow I don't have the energy to stretch out my arm and grab it; don't have the energy to send out a distress call. Distress… that word is so unfamiliar. It can mean dozens of things and they all change in any situation. The distress of rushing home to stop a loved one from harming themselves is a hurt you never think you could replace. The distress of waiting for a text to come through while knowing you can do nothing to make sure the other person is all right is even worse, despite your thinking.

Oddly enough, I don't feel distressed. Not now, no. I suppose I did a while ago, but now I'm lying on the floor in a puddle of my own blood, things just seem to… breathe. The world seems so much more calm now. I feel no pain any more. What had been a dull burning at the first moment after the gunshots has since turned to ice. This ice is spreading through my body with every breath.

 _But Eric will be okay._

With a shudder and a weak smile, I close my eyes.

* * *

 **So! Here begins our journey! I'm so excited to begin this story, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. This is just a prologue, and is extremely short for a reason. It's sort of like one of those single-page prologues you see in some books.**

 _Please send in reviews and such! The more I receive, the more I am motivated to keep writing and thus the quicker new pages will be brought out!_


	2. The Beginning

_**About a year earlier**_

* * *

 **Nell's POV**

* * *

I scratch the side of my nose absentmindedly while I push another brown paper envelope into the incinerator. It hisses in complaint before blackening and curling into itself, reminding me of the stalks of a snail.

I yawn, and then grumble softly as I realise how tired I let myself become.

"God, I need some sleep," I murmur to myself as I look at my watch. When work becomes busier I tend to, well… I wouldn't say _forget_ as much _refuse_ to go home. I'd much rather take being a little tired over having work that is unfinished.

I turn the lights off in the burn room, picking my tablet up from the desk and sweeping out of the room.

I head to the team area and brew myself a cup of coffee, taking a five minute break to sip it softly. Four thirty in the morning; I'll be on my own for a little while longer. So far I've spent twenty-two-and-a-half hours at work, and I'm still counting. I know I need to go home and have a good night's sleep, but when work gets this stressful I take a lot more relaxation in staying overnight. Heck, I'd probably sell my drone if it meant I could calm down the voices in my head. When work gets tougher, they get louder, and all I can do is curse ADD and all of the side effects of the meds I once took.

I sip my coffee, and take a deep breath, fiddling with a lock of my hair. I'm thinking of cutting it short again.

Time passes, and as the last drop of coffee disappears down my throat I hear Hetty clear her throat. At this point in time her sudden appearances no longer startle me.

"Morning, Hetty," I murmur, dropping the cup into the trash and turning to face her.

"Good morning, Miss Jones," she greets me, her face clouded with what I assume to be concern. I cock my head a little.

"Morning. Is there anything you need?"

"No, thank you, although there might be something that you yourself need."  
I blink slowly, knowing what she's going to say next.

"You didn't go home last night, did you?"  
I shake my head.

"No, Hetty, I didn't. You know I can't relax at times like this."  
Hetty nodded quietly.

"I understand that, Miss Jones, although your mental and physical health is more important than a little extra work. If you're falling asleep on your feet, then you're hardly being an asset."  
"Hetty," I say, my tone slightly sharper than I intended it to be, making me wince slightly.

"I couldn't comfortably sleep right now even if I _was_ at home."

Hetty nods slowly, seemingly reading my face, and then she turns, heading into her office.

I sigh softly, and trudge upstairs into Ops.

Hetty's right; I shouldn't be here. I'm exhausted, and my feet even drag across the level ground of the corridor leading into Ops.

I sit down at my computer – or, rather, slump as my legs collapse – and start to type up data from the many papers beside the keyboard.

It's a couple of hours until the team starts to arrive. Eric appears first, like usual, padding into Ops with that usual goofy grin on his face.

"Hey, partner," he teases, and I smile weakly.

"Hey."

Immediately, Beale's tone changes. He takes his seat beside me.

"What's up? I know that voice. Do you need anything?"

I chuckle softly.

"Why do people keep asking me that today?"

"Because you look absolutely exhausted."

I look at him, silent for a second, before taking a sharp inhale and getting back to work.

"That's rude, Eric," I mumble, but he knows I'm not offended.

He lightly pokes my side, and I cringe away from his finger a little.

"Don't!" I softly grin as he pokes me again.

"I'm ticklish, you know that!"

He laughs softly, and pulls his chair closer to mine to tickle me again.

I shriek lightly with laughter and pull away, wrapping my arms around myself.

"Don't do that!" I grin softly, and Eric chuckles.

"There she is."  
I cock my head.

"What?"  
"There's my Nell."

I blink slowly, and swallow, before getting back to work. I can't really contemplate the fact that he just did all that so he could see me smile. It's rather touching but at the same time unnerving. Eric's my best friend and we have great fun together, but even I myself can't deny the, well… sexual tension that goes on between us. Every time he gets close like that without warning I find myself wanting to back into a corner and hide. The feelings I have for him are almost scary, and yet at the same time amazing.  
I don't even realise that I've stared off into space until Eric clears his throat to get my attention.

I blink rapidly and look at him.

"Hm?"

I shake my head a bit.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you'd seen Callen. He hasn't come into work yet and his phone's turned off."  
I look over his shoulder at his computer screen and find that he's right; Callen's phone is turned off and I haven't seen him since the afternoon before.

"No… Have you asked Sam about it?"  
"Not yet."  
"I'd suggest you start there, then."

Eric nods and swings up out of his chair, trotting out of Ops. I work in silence for the next few minutes until he gets back, but as he walks into the dimly lit room, he says nothing.

I glance over my shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Eric? You good?"  
Eric shakes his head, and I frown, getting to my feet.

"What is it?"

Eric swallows hard, and I step closer.

"Beale, tell me."

He takes a deep breath.

"Callen's missing."

* * *

 _Another short chapter, I'm afraid. A lot has been going on right now and I'm very tired. I'll post more as soon as I can!_


	3. Panic

Panic. Utter, utter panic.

I've never seen Hetty so afraid of anything in my life, and I've seen the glint of fear flash across her eyes more than once before. In the past when someone was missing, she'd take a moment for it to sink in, process the news, and then almost immediately come up with a suitable plan. However, this time, it's different.

I remember when I came back to Ops, Eric told me all about how she reacted; even fighting with Granger over it. However, this is a Hetty I have never seen before, and I don't know if I ever want to see it again.

She tears around OSP with a raging temper, barking orders at people to find Callen. Poor Beale is under the most pressure – she almost constantly stands behind him, barking directions into his ear. I can see how stressed this is making him and it pains me.

We scour every security cam in the city over the last forty-eight hours, using a broad search that Hetty told Eric to set up. It's a little shaky, but in its due time it does the job.

As the machine beeps to let us know we have a hit, Sam storms into Ops.

"D'you find him yet?" he snaps. He's almost scarier than Hetty when he's like this. It's kind of sweet how connected those two are to Callen.

"Um… yeah, just a second ago."

Eric puts the footage up onto the big screen and all eyes sweep up to watch. Twelve hours ago, right after work ended, Callen headed to the graveyard, to an area we all knew by now. He knelt on his sister's grave; put down some flowers. After paying his due respects to her, he stood up…

Normally, G would then have turned and walked away, but this time, things went awry. It happened in the blink of an eye. Men in black bodysuits and black masks swarmed him from seemingly nowhere – from every available nook and cranny in the graveyard. They beat him down onto his knees, shoved a bag over his head and struck him there. He slumped to the floor like a ragdoll and the men shuffled him into a black, unmarked van with no license plate.

After witnessing this, Eric looks a little pale, and I feel ill. Hetty and Sam wear the most terrifying blank faces I have ever seen. They almost mirror each other and it scares me.

"Find them," Hetty says shortly, and storms out of the OPS centre, down into her office to brew herself some comfort-tea. Sam, on the other hand, stares at the screen a little longer. He turns to face Eric, and slowly walks towards him.

"G Callen has been in this agency even longer than you have, Beale," he growls darkly. "I swear, if you don't get your butt to work and find him before it's too late, then you'll see a side of me that'll make you wish you were never born."

Eric gulps, and I grit my teeth angrily, forcing myself between the men.

"Stop it, Sam," I say sharply. "Go get your gun, and get out of here. Go to the graveyard and search there first. Take an earpiece so we can hear you." I hate being so bossy, but nobody threatens my Eric like that. I can feel both men staring at me – Eric's gaze drills a hole in my back and Sam's eyes are cold and emotionless in his rage.

"Fine," Sam growls. "But I meant what I said."

He turns and leaves, swinging his arms as he strode downstairs. He heads into the weaponry room to suit up and I sit down, sighing softly.

"I'm sorry," I mumble to Eric with embarrassment. "I lost my temper."

"You saved my life," Eric replies, his voice shaking a bit with nervous laughter. I can tell he hates being in such stressful situations and I wish I could take him out of this one.

"What can I say, you own me now," I grin softly, reminding him of an old conversation. As the memories return, I almost feel like crying.

 _"So how was being out in the field with Callen and Sam?"_

 _"It was good. Did you miss me?"_

 _"Every solitary second."_

Eric grins weakly, and I can tell he feels the same way about it. Even though that was only last year, it feels like such a long time ago we had that conversation. The reminder of how happy and almost carefree we were while the whole team was here is painful.

 _"I was happy to loan you out."_

 _"Loan me out?"_

 _"Oh, yeah, I own you now, didn't you get the memo?"_

 _"Oh, yeah, I got it."_

We both fall silent, staring at our fingers.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I shouldn't have brought that up, should I?"

He looks at me.

"You're fine, Nell. We just… need to get Callen back as soon as we can."

He swallows hard.

"If we can," I whisper, saying it for him. I know he was thinking the same thing. He looks at me guiltily, and I sigh softly.

"I'll look for the men on facial rec. You run Kaleidoscope and try to find the van. Search over the last twenty-four hours, all right?"

Eric nods softly, and we immediately get to work.

* * *

 _New chapter! :D I did this in a free period at school but I've been planning it for a while. I hope you like it!_


	4. Harrowing

_So sorry this took so long! Exams are bitches._

* * *

Things are bleak. They are, we know they are. However, nobody breaks. Things like this have happened before, even with Hetty herself. We won't let this end any differently.

Eric and I work well overtime every day. Weeks pass of little sleep and constant stress, which makes everyone slowly grow more and more irritable. It's all a mess.

A month after Callen went missing, Eric finds a popup in an email from one of the men, who we discover is called Kyle Brandinson. The man has a long crime history, of assault, petty theft and suspicion of involvement in terrorism. I narrow my eyes and look at Eric, who hesitates to click the popup. I understand; he's not the only one nervous to see what's inside.

He clicks the link and bites his lip. The screen goes black, and a video player opens in the direct centre. A video starts playing.

The quality of the video is awful; the audio is lousy, the colour is fuzzy, a gloved finger covers the majority of the screen, and the camera itself is shaking violently for the first fifteen or so seconds, making my head spin. It finally stops after about fifteen seconds, and tilts upwards. The gloved finger slowly moves off of the lens, revealing our lost Callen. I silently raise my hand, covering my mouth.

"Oh god," I hear Eric whisper. Callen lies on his side, covered in bruises and cuts. A few bloodstains smear the ground beneath him, and his left arm is extremely swollen – I think it's broken. He lies still, but we can see his side softly rising and falling.

"Trace that video, Eric," I breathe, and I see him nodding from the corner of my eye. Jumping up from my chair, I almost sprint out of the Ops centre, heading downstairs as quickly as I can. The team aren't at their desks. I grunt and turn tail, heading to the gym. Sure enough, there they are. Sam stands in the corner battering a punching bag and Deeks and Kensi are sparring. For once, Deeks is winning.

"Guys, we got something," I hear, vaguely aware that it is myself who is saying it. I see all three of them turn their heads at the same time, and I turn around, jogging back up to the dimly lit room.

Eric plays the video back again, and for a good thirty seconds the room freezes in shocked silence. Kensi speaks first.

"Could you trace it?"  
"Still working through the encryption, I should have coordinates for you within a couple of minutes," Beale mumbles in reply, sitting back down at his desk. I sense his nervousness, and I understand them – Sam stands still as a statue, hands clenched into fists and jaw tightly clamped shut. The silence returns until the computer beeps, and Eric sends the coordinates of the video to the team's phones. Without a word, they turn and leave the room, getting their gear. I sink down into my chair once again, and pull up the button cams and earpieces. One by one, the team arm and shield themselves with their gear, and then they wordlessly leave the building; clambering into a black van and pulling away.

"You think they'll be okay?" I ask Eric in a tiny murmur, covering the microphone with a hand so the team won't hear.

"Of course they will be," he replies, looking at me gently. "You know them, Nell. They don't fail."

"It's happened before… it's far from impossible."  
"Yeah, but it's highly improbable. Have faith in them."  
"Hard to have faith when you make a living working out how and why people have died.."

Eric goes silent, and pulls up the traffic cams so as we can track the van from the outside along with from the button cams of our agents. As always when the team go out, my heart softly thumps in the back of my throat. Guilt from upsetting Beale claws at my stomach, but I push it aside for now. Right now we need to focus on rescuing Callen.

"All right, the building's coming up on your left," I inform the team, and the van pulls into the curb. They get out of the car in unison, and it's an almost photogenic scene.

"I'll take the back door," Sam shortly growls, and he pads around to the rear end of the building. On closer inspection, the building itself seems to be an abandoned warehouse. Its walls are stained brown from neglect and its roof is of corrugated iron. The doors are heavily locked, but the padlocks themselves are nothing wire cutters can't handle. Kensi and Sam pry the locks off of the doors, and softly count to three before bursting them open, guns raised.

Immediately, the three agents go still, and I stop breathing.

"No," Deeks murmurs, and Kensi turns away. "No, no, no. He has to be here. He has to be."

The warehouse is completely empty.

* * *

 _I hope you liked it! Next chapter is gonna be kinda short, I'm sorry._


	5. Resolve

_Aaa I am so, so sorry for the wait on this. Life got a little insane and my mental health went down the toilet. While I'm still in a very bad place, I'm feeling secure enough to start writing again. Thank you for your patience, and again, I am so sorry._

* * *

Sam bursts into the Ops centre with the power of a bull, making Eric and I flinch simultaneously. We barely have time to turn around before he's upon us, slamming his hands down on the desk on either side of Eric.

"Why wasn't he there?" he bays, his expression completely feral.

"W-w-we don't know, Sam…" Eric stutters, his eyes wide.

"We didn't see him leaving the warehouse even when we scoured security cameras nearby," I add, my heart tearing itself to pieces. "It makes no sense, but we're doing our best."

"Your best isn't good enough, then!" Sam hisses, straightening up. Kensi and Deeks make it into the Ops room in time to hear him mutter; "This is the one thing we're supposed to protect each other and ourselves against. We lost Dom to people like this and I'll be damned if I'm going to lose my partner to it too."

"Sam, it wasn't their fault," Kensi states firmly, and a gentle smile of gratitude tugs at the corner of my lips, silently thanking her for her understanding. So many people would immediately turn a blind eye to how little options those in the tech rooms have in situations like this, and people who understand – though few and far between – are worth cherishing. Kensi nods subtly to me, her wordless recognition of my thanks.

Sam begins to pace, his anxiety filling the room; suffocating us all.

"I can't do this again," he growls. "I can't go through this crap again. Not anymore!"

He seems to be talking to himself more than any of us at this stage, and I don't think anyone knows what to say. Sam very rarely loses it in this fashion.

"Hey, man, we're gonna find him," Deeks offers, but the shell of our co-worker wheels around to face him.

"When?" he snarls. "When are we gonna find him, Deeks? When he's dead at the bottom of the Marina? When he's been tortured to the point of losing his mind? When it's too late to save him?"

"We're gonna find him as soon as we can," I cut in, saving Deeks from Sam's wrath. "I have no idea if it'll be in time, but I know that we aren't cutting any corners. We will find him as soon as humanly possible, but until then, please just... try to calm down. Stress is the last thing we need in this situation."

Sam shakes his head, breathing deeply to withhold his stress. My heart goes out to him, knowing his mind must be racing.

"I'm leaving," he murmurs, and Kensi cocks her head.

"What do you mean?" she asks, her voice laced with concern and underlying fear.

"This isn't gonna work. I'm gonna find him," Sam replies to her, his voice eerily calm. Without another word, he pushes past Kensi and Deeks, heading downstairs and out of the building. I struggle to swallow the lump that rises in my throat.

I never knew Dom, but I was made well aware the effect his death had on the team. I heard the stories of how Deeks was almost mauled when he was assigned to Dom's desk. I knew of Dom's bobble-head troll figurine that was never moved from the corner of that desk. I knew of the laughter he had shared with Eric; the practice sessions he had gone through with Sam and Callen; the stake-out banter he had with Kensi. I had heard all of the stories, but even with the agents doing everything they could, they couldn't save him. They got him out of the building after months of imprisonment only for him to be shot down minutes after seeing the sun. I can't imagine how everyone else must be feeling. The thought of going through the same trauma with Callen would shatter them. I know that losing our team-mate would be more than I could take without breaking; the way the others must have broken when they lost Dom. They cannot go through that torment a second time. I can't let them.

Swallowing hard, I swivel my chair back around to face my screen, gritting my teeth. I'm determined to make this right as soon as possible. My fingers begin to fly across the keys, for minutes, for hours, I'm not even sure. I don't even pay attention to Eric; I simply check everything I can, and check it again, and check everything it could link to.

I guess I've always been a competitive person – it got me through extra-curricular activities back in my school years and got me through the grief of losing my sister so long ago. I know how to use this competitive nature to my advantage, and I throw everything I have into this work. This is a fight I am refusing to lose.

* * *

 _Once again, I apologise it took so long to get out. I'll post another chapter tomorrow and then there's only a few chapters left! Things will start to get more interesting in the next chapter..._


	6. Anxiety

The days begin to blur. We start to go home whenever we're getting to exhausted to continue the search, or whenever Hetty forces us to go home herself. The whole team is exhausted; that much is obvious by the dark rings under our eyes and by how zombie-like our whole demeanours become. Sam stopped coming to work, although we all know he's out hunting Callen by himself. We can't stop him; we never thought we could. We all agree that letting him go on his own would be the best thing for all of us at the moment.

Days turn into weeks, and I'm starting to feel the effects of long-term exhaustion. My memory turns to slush and I find it increasingly difficult to withhold a conversation. Eric seems to be much the same, and we don't tend to see much of anyone else at the moment, save for Hetty whenever she chooses to make an appearance to see our progress. It's a frustrating circle; every time we find something worth looking into, it leads to another dead end. It's become clear that whoever did this is scarily good at covering up their tracks, and even better at placing false trails for us to follow.

However, baffling as the whole event is, nothing could ever prepare us for what happened one day.

Kensi and Deeks came upstairs without being called; an unusual occurrence. I glance at them over my shoulder, and get up from my chair, stumbling slightly from clumsiness gained from exhaustion.

"Hey," I murmur in greeting, and Kensi nods.

"Nell," she acknowledges me. "Could I... have a word?"

Confusion and curiosity bubble inside me, a taunting brew of anxiety, but I nod and follow her out of the room, leaving Deeks and Eric to have a word of their own. Kensi leads me to her desk.

"I have to show you something," she murmurs, pulling a small box out from under her desk. Flipping it open, she rustles through some crumpled up kitchen towel before lifting up a small white stick. My breath catches in my throat.

"Kensi, you're not…"

She is. Her silence only confirms the sight of the positive pregnancy test in her pale, trembling hands.

"How could that happen?" I ask, my voice a low murmur. "You two aren't married; I didn't think you were gonna go for kids until after we found Callen, at the very least..."  
"I know, this is horrific timing… in truth, Nell, it was an accident."  
I look up at her, puzzled. She hesitates, but elaborates nonetheless.

"It wasn't that we weren't wearing any protection, it just… it broke. We didn't think anything would happen, so I didn't do anything about it... I know I should have gotten some of those morning-after pills but I just didn't think it'd come to this…"  
I feel sick. I can't even explain the dread that washes over me. Somewhere out there, Callen lies a hostage in some stranger's vicious hands – or worse, if we were too late. With that worry already piling exhaustion and terror onto us all, the sudden news of this massive alteration in life pushes me far closer to the edge.

"How far along are you?" I ask her, not voicing my concerns directly although I know that Kens would probably be able to sense them herself. She's good at things like that."  
"Just a month or so," Kensi replies, still staring at the test in her hands. I gently place a hand on her wrist, guiding her to put the test back in the box.

"Don't worry about this, Kens. We'll figure it out. If you're not ready for it, you can always try-"

"I am _not_ giving up on this child, Nell," Kensi cuts me off, her voice cold and protective. I blink, taken aback by her sudden hostility.

"I wasn't meaning any offence by that… It was reassurance that you don't need to do anything you're not ready for."

Her face colours with guilt.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just… I feel so… protective, you know? Already I would do anything to keep this thing safe, even if it's still just a bundle of cells."

I smile weakly, looking down at the table again.

"It's fine, Kens. This is a lot to take in, of course you're stressed about it."

My friend wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug, and I nestle gladly into her embrace. I've always been a hugger.

"Well, congratulations," I softly chuckle. "I think that's what I'm supposed to say, at least..."

Kensi laughs.

"I don't know how I feel. No need to congratulate me." She gently pats me between the shoulder blades. "Thank you, though. I appreciate your understanding."

The rest of the day is plagued with anxiety. Eric is rather quiet, and from the strained tone of his voice, he's not any happier about Kensi's news than I am. This is the absolute worst timing for such an event and she won't even consider removing it and waiting. Obviously, it's her choice and I don't blame her for that, but…

I sigh, closing my eyes to swallow my stress. I don't blame Kensi at all; it's not a major issue. It's a shame that she'd be more vulnerable, but we can handle this… right?

I shake my head, giving up on trying to restrain myself.

"I can't, I'm sorry," I croak, anxiety plaguing my mind. Eric looks at me in confusion and concern, but I don't offer him any explanation. Breathing becomes difficult as a panic attack brings itself about, and I lurch from my chair, walking to the bathroom as fast as I can. I lock myself in a cubicle, sitting on the closed toilet lid and placing my head between my knees. I focus on my breathing for a few minutes, letting the panic attack do its business.

 _Callen is missing,_ I think to myself. _Sam's gone out on his own. I'm exhausted; we all are. Kensi is pregnant. Kensi is… pregnant…_ I swallow hard, shaking my head.

"It's too soon. We can't do this. I can't… I can't handle this," I choke to myself in a whisper, closing my eyes tightly.

After a few minutes, the tightness in my stomach uncoils itself and I can breathe again. The anxiety slowly passes, and I sit back, inhaling deeply.

"We can," I breathe softly. A few seconds pass, and the bathroom door opens, making me flinch a little.

"Nell?" I hear Kensi ask, and I look up.

"In here, Kens." I get up and open the door, leaving the cubicle.

"What's up? Eric told me you ran in here – he's worried sick about you."

I blush, guilty as I think of my actions earlier. I ran off without any explanation whatever, and it wasn't subtle that I was having trouble breathing. _Poor Eric…_

"I'm fine," I mumble. "I just needed some air."

Kensi's expression softens slightly and it's obvious she understands what was really happening.

"It's okay, Nell," she murmurs, pulling me into the second hug of the day. "I'm worried too. What with Callen being gone for so long and Sam going rogue, a baby is really the last thing we need…"  
She nuzzles my hair lightly.

"But we'll be fine," she finishes, giving me a gently reassuring squeeze.

"We will," I reply softly. "Thank you, Kens."

"No problem," she smiles, finishing the hug and looking at me. "Hey, tell you what."

I cock my head curiously.

"Hm?"

"Let's go out. Girl's night out."

A little light of happiness flickers to life in my chest, but stays small.

"I thought you couldn't drink when you're pregnant?"

"Oh, I wouldn't be drinking. I'll be the driver, hm? We can just have fun, get something to eat, do some dancing. It'll be fine."

"Alright," I feel a grin slowly raising on my face for the first time in weeks. "Let's do it."

* * *

 _I hope you liked it! Next chapter is when a certain something happens..._


	7. Watershed

I was feeling hope that I hadn't felt in a long while as I get home and change into a more attractive outfit. A colourful summer dress replaces my scruffy plaid outfit from today, and I tie my hair back into a ponytail. I haven't felt any actual happiness since… well, since before any of this happened. Since Callen was home, Sam wasn't rogue and Kensi wasn't pregnant. However, I trust that tonight can be a night to let go and enjoy things. At eight, I hear Kensi's car horn outside, and grin softly as I pad out to the car.

"Hey, girl," I chuckle, and get into the passenger seat. "You look great!" "You too!" Kensi laughs in response, pulling away from the curb and driving off down the road.

"So, how are you feeling?" she asks, shooting a quick side glance at me before looking back at the road.

"I'm good," I smile softly, truthful. "I'm a lot better than I was, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Kensi chuckles. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Deeks is ticked that I didn't let him come with us." "I didn't even tell Eric," I admit, my cheeks colouring. "I'd have felt too bad to leave him out." Kensi looks at me curiously.

"How are you two?" she asks, looking back at the road immediately after asking.

"What do you mean?" I ask, swallowing thickly. While I know exactly how we feel for each other, it's terrifying whenever our feelings are acknowledged. We've known for a while, I guess, but I don't think either of us are brave enough to go beyond our flirtatious teasing yet. It's daunting to even think of others knowing about us.

"You know what I mean," Kensi raises an eyebrow, parking the car a few minutes away from the club and getting out. I follow suit, closing the door behind me, and we start to walk. "How's your relationship going?"

"We're not dating," I mumble shyly, feeling my cheeks burning. Kensi looks at me as we walk, and I can feel her curiosity burning a hole in my mind.

"You're not dating, but you want to…?" she suggests, and my subtle nod is enough to satisfy her. "Well, good luck," she smiles softly. "You two are sweet together."

I grin softly, embarrassment still heating my cheeks.

"Thanks, Kens."

Nothing more is said as Kensi and I get in line for the club, and our night of festivities begins.

We tear our way through drinks throughout the night, although admittedly, only mine contain any alcohol. Kensi seems to be getting more amusement out of how I act drunk rather than the thumping music, dancing and casual flirting with those around us, and I don't blame her. I'm an awful drunk. I usually avoid drinking too much in one sitting to avoid getting to the point of embarrassing singing, hugging strangers and badly attempting to seduce strange men, but tonight, my boundaries seem to have evaded me, and I end up relying on Kensi to keep me from going insane.

As the night tears on, I can't help but feel guilty about Eric. He's always been there for me. I remember the night where I had a breakdown over memories of my sister and appeared on his doorstep in the middle of the night just so I could cry in his embrace. I remember how eager he was to make me happy the night I kissed him into wearing that stupid elf costume. I remember so many days where all he was, was mine, and I feel awful for leaving him out of this fun night. I think Kensi realises it, but she doesn't say anything about it. Of course, she wouldn't; she knows that what Eric and I feel for each other isn't any of her business unless we make it her business, and after our conversation earlier she has the respect to leave me in peace. Even while I'm more drunk than I've ever been before, I appreciate that about her.

It must be around three at this point. The club has become even more busy than it had been at midnight. What had then been a crowd of people akin to a school of fish has since turned into a tin of sardines, jostling close to one another and pulsing along with the music. If I had been sober, I might have been anxious about it, but the alcohol in my system loosens my boundaries and I find that I don't care very much at all.

I don't even realise at what point I stop hearing Kensi's voice and feeling her arm pulling me away from the thickest of the crowd. I lose her at some point in the night, and I only start to realise it when my head starts to throb horribly, and my stomach protests against any movement with nausea. I cease my dancing, and hurriedly head towards the toilets so I can throw up my guts. However, I only just make it into the bathroom before the world turns dark and I lose consciousness.

* * *

 **Finally something starts to happen xD**

 **'Watershed' is a synonym for 'Turning Point' btw, just in case anyone was confused about why I chose that as the title of this chapter. Here's where things start to get interesting.**


End file.
